Sirius Consequences
by Daniella Fromage
Summary: Marauders. What exactly was Sirius thinking when he sent Snape to the Shrieking Shack? And was he ever punished? WARNING: Contains corporal punishment, i.e. caning, of a teenager. So I reckon he was.
1. Revenge

**Disclaimer: **All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Sirius Consequences**

"Someone mind telling me why Snivellus is staring at us again?" Sirius grumbled to no one in particular, helping himself to more toast. He and two of his best friends, James Potter and Peter Pettigrew, were breakfasting together at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. Their fourth, Remus Lupin, was in the infirmary recovering from the previous night. Remus was a werewolf, and every full moon he underwent a painful transformation which left him grounded the next day.

James grinned lazily at Sirius over his eggs. "Didn't you hear? He got a week's worth of detention with Filch for being out-of-bounds last night," he said, not bothering to conceal his glee.

Sirius snorted. "Bet he was trying to follow us again," he said. "Such a git. Why can't he mind his own business?" The four boys had disliked the greasy-haired Severus Snape from the moment they met on the Hogwarts Express back in first year. Well, to be strictly accurate, James and Sirius disliked Snape. Remus wasn't friends with him or anything, but pretty much kept neutral. Peter was a follower, and he followed whoever promised him the greatest rewards for doing so. Thus, Peter's pipers were James and Sirius, which afforded him the patronage of the most popular boys in school. James and Sirius hated Snape, ergo Peter hated Snape.

James looked at his watch. "Hurry up and eat," he instructed his friends. "Maybe Madam Pomfrey will let us see Moony for a few minutes before class."

Sirius and Peter grumbled; neither felt like trekking to the hospital wing before going down to the dungeons for Potions. The morning after the full moon was never easy for the three boys, who'd been up all night keeping Remus company. After running wild until dawn, only James ever seemed to have enough stored energy to appear as if he'd slept the night before.

The trio took a few last bites, then grabbed their satchels and headed for the infirmary. "Not that I'd want to be a werewolf," Peter griped as they were walking, "but at least Remus gets to spend the next day in bed."

James frowned at him. "I get what you're saying, mate, but I bet he'd trade with you in a heartbeat. You wouldn't last a day in his shoes."

Peter flushed. He wasn't the bravest of the three; sometimes it was impossible for Sirius to understand how Peter had ever been sorted into Gryffindor. _Maybe the Sorting Hat's going barmy,_ he mused. _Not all at once, mind, but more like how old people get Alzheimer's._

Remus was sleeping when they got there. The trip would have been for nothing, except that the exercise had at least woken the boys up. Somewhat more alert than at breakfast, they headed back down to Professor Slughorn's dungeon classroom for a double class with the Slytherins.

Sirius slammed his bag on the table next to James and hunted for his Potions text. He caught Snape looking at him and glared back. _Why doesn't he just take a picture?_ he wondered. _He can always throw darts at it later. _Sirius hated Potions. Something about the dark, gloomy room caused his mind to go slack and he rarely retained anything from Slughorn's lecture. When Remus was there, he could at least count on his friend to help him later. All James's time was spent helping Peter, who wasn't especially bright.

_So Peter's not a Ravenclaw, either. I'm surprised he ever learned to transform, really. What does that leave? Hufflepuff? Could anyone really categorise him as especially honest or hardworking?_ The short, fat boy wasn't a pathological liar by any means, but he wasn't above lying to save his own skin, even at the expense of others. And he was as lazy as a slug. _I guess that leaves Slytherin, then. Like Snape._ But Slytherins were, in the aggregate, heavy into the Dark Arts. Peter was much too timid for that. _So he'll have to bunk in the Room of Requirement, then,_ Sirius summed up his thoughts. _I'm sick of his snoring, anyway._

The potion for that class was an Enervating Draught. Sirius scanned the instructions on the board and began mixing ingredients. Across the way, Snivellus was, well, _snivelling _to a fellow Slytherin about his detentions; Sirius smirked as he listened to the boy's nasal complaints.

"I _tried _to tell him Potter and his friends were out, too, if he'd just go check their beds, but he wouldn't listen. That's how all the staff are; they'd never think to question their little pets. Everyone picks on the Slytherins. But I'm going to find out where that Lupin goes all the time. I hope it's something that can get him and his little entourage expelled. Especially Potter."

Sirius was so incensed at that last remark that his hand trembled as he was adding powdered chiles to his potion, and a large lump of powder shook free and plopped into the liquid. He swore as his mixture began to sizzle, and scurried to move his things out of the way as the cauldron boiled over. He managed to save his satchel and some ingredients, but his Potions text got soaked. _At least it didn't explode,_ he reasoned.

BANG! _Never mind. _Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Snivellus laughing uproariously. His hands itched to punch that ridiculous beaky nose. _We'll see how he laughs then,_ he screamed inwardly. Leaving James and Peter to clean up the mess, Sirius grabbed his bag and stomped out of the nasty-smelling dungeon.

* * *

Sirius's mood hadn't improved much by lunchtime. To make it worse, he was _again _sitting in the perfect place to listen to Severus Snape drone on.

"They had to move Davey Gudgeon to St. Mungo's. Madam Pomfrey was afraid he'd lose his eye," a Slytherin named Talmidge Morris was telling Snivellus.

"It's his own stupid fault for playing chicken with the Whomping Willow," Snape said in a lofty voice. "You'd think we were first years, the games these kids play."

Sirius rolled his eyes. _If anyone acts like a first year, it's you, Snivellus. I've heard first years with broken bones whinge less than you do over a paper cut._

"I don't know why they had to plant the bloody thing at all, unless it's for the N.E.W.T. Herbology students to study," Talmidge continued.

"I don't know why, either, but I know that Lupin goes out there every few weeks. Potter and his friends always sneak out the same night, and then Lupin's in the infirmary the next day. There must be a way off the school grounds around there somewhere, although what the Willow has to do with it is beyond me," Snape mused.

Sirius smiled to himself as he listened to their conversation. A plan was forming in his mind to get back at Snivellus, and to stop the git from bothering him and his friends once and for all.

Every month at the full moon, Madam Pomfrey escorted Remus to the Whomping Willow, a magical tree at the edge of the school grounds that would use its long, whippy branches to attack anyone coming near it. The tree could be stilled by one who knew the technique, but few knew that its roots concealed a secret exit to the village of Hogsmeade. Specifically, the underground passageway ended at the Shrieking Shack, where Remus was supposed to stay during his monthlies to ensure that he didn't hurt anyone. The quiet teenager was the most gentle of boys at any other time, but a werewolf doesn't know himself during the time of transformation, and will attack any human that crosses its path.

For a long time, although the boys were friends and roommates, Remus had kept his secret, terrified that he would be shunned if Peter, James, and Sirius found out about his lycanthropy. Werewolves were outcasts in the Wizarding world, and under any headmaster other than Dumbledore, Remus would not even have been allowed to attend school at Hogwarts.

When, finally, the unfortunate boy's story had come out, James and Sirius (and, by extension, Peter) had surprised him. Not only did their friendship remain intact, but the three boys had painstakingly worked out how to make the Animagus transformation. James's animal was a stag, giving him the nickname Prongs. Sirius, following the tradition of P'an Hu and the star he was named for, had the form of a large, bearlike dog; he was given the moniker Padfoot. Finally, Peter (who'd needed the most time to learn the advanced magic) found himself taking the shape of a rat. He was called Wormtail. Remus, for obvious reasons, was called Moony.

Sometimes hate is just love that lost its way. For all Snape loathed the four comrades, he seemed to have a sick fascination with shadowing them. He had long been suspicious of Remus's monthly absences. Perhaps he even suspected the truth; they'd studied werewolves back in third year, and Defence Against the Dark Arts had always been Snape's second favourite class, after Potions.

_Actually,_ Sirius mused, _it _would_ be his favourite class if it actually _taught_ the Dark Arts, not just Defence. _Snape had come to Hogwarts with more knowledge of Dark Magic than any eleven-year-old should have. But whatever the motive or rationale behind Snape's actions, it had long been a concern of the self-styled Marauders that their nemesis would blow the lid off Remus' secret.

Now Sirius thought that if he played his cards right, he could get the stupid prat off their backs for good. All he had to do was tell him how to get past the Willow. The tree sported a knot on its trunk which, when touched, caused its branches to stop moving. Peter, as Wormtail, could slip under the gyrating tree limbs to do it; Snape would have to use a stick or something. The trick would be to share the information in a way that didn't arouse suspicion in the Slytherin's mind.

Sirius frowned. _Come to think of it, what does Madam Pomfrey use? She's no Animagus. _He made a mental note to ask Remus how the two got in. Anyway, once Snape got to the Shrieking Shack, he'd end up stumbling into a full-fledged werewolf in the pitch dark. Sirius, Peter, and James would still be in the dorms, waiting until everyone was in bed before sneaking out under James's Invisibility Cloak. Snape would get the shock of his young life, Dark Arts or no Dark Arts. _That's if the shrieking and howling doesn't scare him silly before he even gets there._

So comfortable was Sirius with transforming himself that it never entered his mind to fear for Snape's safety. After all, he and James and Peter were never in danger from Remus as Moony. Sirius had forgotten Remus's observation that his human mind was never more than slightly alert during that time, and then only in the company of his friends in their non-human forms. Severus Snape, not knowing what to expect, would be scared stiff. _He'll probably piss himself, it'll scare him that much, _Sirius thought with glee. _That ought to shut his trap and seal it closed._

He was trying to work out how to best initiate the conversation when luck intervened; he noticed a dark shape looming over him and looked up into Snape's sneering face. _Well, speak of the snivel,_ he thought in amusement.

"Hey, Black, how's your loony friend today?" Snape heckled him. "Skipping class again?"

"He's _sick_, you prat," Sirius said through clenched teeth, his excitement dimming momentarily.

"Yeah, sick, or visiting his sick _mother, _or someone died, I know, I've heard all the excuses. I know he sneaks off the school grounds a lot — I saw him heading for the Whomping Willow — and I'll bet those are the days he's 'sick,' as you put it. What's he do, go out drinking in Hogsmeade?"

"Oh, piss off," Sirius growled. Still, he smirked inwardly at the thought of how Remus, old Marian the Librarian himself, would act if he were drunk. But he was going to have to watch his temper if he wanted to follow through on his new idea.

"I just don't understand how he gets past that tree," Snape wheedled. "If it's that easy, some other student could find out, and they could really get hurt. Look at what happened to Davey."

_As if you care if anyone gets hurt._ "If I tell you, will you leave me the bloody hell alone?" he snapped, feigning annoyance. Severus nodded enthusiastically, though there was a sly grin on his face. _Still thinks he's going to get Moony expelled,_ Sirius thought in disgust. "Well, there's this wonky knot on the side of the Willow; if you use a long stick, you can probe it without getting conked, and the tree stops moving."

Snape's eyes gleamed. "I see," he purred.

"Just don't let on it was me that told you," Sirius cautioned, barely holding back a grin as he tried to work a note of pleading into his voice. "Remus'll never speak to me again if he finds out."

"Oh, don't worry," Severus leered. "He won't hear it from me." With that, the lanky boy got up and left the Great Hall. Sirius smiled at his retreating back.

He could hardly wait until the next full moon.

* * *

The days passed slowly as the moon went through its waning phase down to new, then waxed through crescent, first quarter, and gibbous up to full again. It wasn't as if Sirius spent every waking moment thinking about Snape's upcoming . . . _adventure, _but when it did occur to him, he had to bite back a laugh when he imagined the look on old Snivelly's face.

As bits of his conversation with Snape played back at odd times, Sirius often felt a tug at the corners of his mind, as if he'd forgotten some detail. Of course, he assumed that anything he'd missed would simply make the prank less satisfying. He still had no inkling of what he'd started in motion.

The evening of the full moon found Peter, James, and Sirius lying on their beds in Gryffindor Tower, waiting until the castle was quiet enough so that they could sneak out. Remus had already left with Madam Pomfrey some time earlier, and was undoubtedly at the Shrieking Shack already.

Peter was reading over his Transfiguration essay. As usual, he had mostly cribbed James's paper, dumbing it down a bit so McGonagall wouldn't get suspicious. Still, one thing within his control was spelling, so he did what he could with that.

James, as was his custom, was playing with a Snitch. He often played on his bed, the rule being that he had to catch the tiny golden object without touching the floor. Fracturing his wrist after falling off the bed at the beginning of the year hadn't dimmed his enjoyment of this activity in the least.

Sirius was bored. "Can I get your Cloak out, James?" he asked.

James's Invisibility Cloak, while large, simply could no longer cover the three fifth years. So when the boys snuck out on the night of the full moon, only James and Sirius would hunch underneath as humans; Peter turned into a rat and rode in James's pocket. Neither James nor Sirius could risk transforming in the dorm; it would have looked rather odd for an antlered stag and bear-sized dog to come lumbering out of the portrait hole. Not to mention the Fat Lady would scream bloody murder.

"Sure, mate. We'll have to be careful this time; Snivellus was _pissed_ when he got detention last month. Let's walk and not talk, okay?"

"Mm-hmm," Peter murmured distractedly. The tip of his tongue was clenched between his teeth as he concentrated.

_Must be a hard word, _thought Sirius in amusement. _Two syllables, at least!_ Out loud, he said, "Don't worry about old Snivelly. We'll probably meet him coming back from the Willow, screaming his fool head off."

"How goes that?" James asked idly.

"Last month I told him how to get past the tree," Sirius explained. His eyes were twinkling with suppressed mirth.

James's hand closed on the Snitch in a death grip. He sat up slowly. "You did _what?_" he asked in disbelief.

"I told him about the knot so he'd take the passageway after Remus this time. Once he gets a load of what's in the Shack, we'll never hear another peep out of him."

His friend's eyes were wild. "How could you _do_ that? Are you off your bleeding _nut?_" he asked hoarsely.

Peter looked up, nervous at the sudden change in the atmosphere.

Sirius looked at James in surprise. "What are you on about, mate? He's been after us forever. When he bumps into a wolf in the Shrieking Shack, he'll probably go in his pants. He'll never bother us again."

"Remus will _kill_ him, you nutter! He won't know any better!" James shouted.

"Don't be stupid. We never get hurt." Sirius was starting to feel uneasy. Why was James looking at him like that?

"We're in our Animagus form! Snape can't do that! He'll get bitten, and they'll blame Moony!" James had leapt up and was pacing the room.

Sirius's face went dead white. His head suddenly felt disconnected from his body as he realised what his friend meant. The missing piece of the puzzle clicked into place, and Sirius felt his mind slipping into a blind panic. "Oh, bugger," he whispered. "I didn't —"

"I've got to stop him," James said frantically. He leapt off the bed and wrenched open his trunk, hunting for his Invisibility Cloak. He was in too much of a hurry to find it easily, and half the contents of his trunk ended up strewn on the floor. Peter sat petrified, useless as always.

Sirius watched, his terror increasing with every second. He honestly had not considered the possibility that Snape would be hurt by Remus. He was so used to accompanying his friend on his monthly excursions that he'd forgotten the danger a werewolf presents. Perhaps the impression had taken hold in his mind that he and his friends were immune simply because they were _wizards, _not because they were Animagi. His head had been full of getting Snape off their backs; now, it looked like that might happen in a more permanent way than he'd expected. As scared now himself as he had ever hoped Snape would be, Sirius slid off the bed and hovered over James.

Finally, the Cloak emerged; James threw it over his shoulders, making his head appear to be floating in midair. He started for the door, knocking over a box of Every Flavour Beans with his foot and cursing as they scattered all over the floor.

"Wait, James!" Sirius called. "I'm coming with you."

"Don't bother. You've done enough already," his best mate spat, not slowing his pace. He threw open the door, then gave Sirius a last look of disgust as he lifted the Cloak's hood, obscuring his face. The door slammed on empty air, apparently of its own accord.


	2. Rescue

For the first time in a long time, Severus Snape felt real excitement. In fact, he hadn't felt this good since right before leaving for Hogwarts when he was eleven years old. The prospect of getting away from his father and finally learning real magic, not just the stuff he came up with when he was angry or upset (which was most of the time), was the only thing that had kept him from turning into a complete nutter. Best of all, it felt as if he and Lily were eloping, in a way, with both of them heading off for school together and leaving their families behind.

Of course, it didn't take long for school to become almost as miserable as home.

All thanks to James Potter.

Severus felt a surge of fresh hatred as he thought of Potter. _Everyone's favourite. Dumbledore's, his parents' . . . and he wants Lily, too, the spoiled brat! Well, he won't get her. She'll never look at him again once he's expelled,_ he thought with satisfaction. Alone in the underground tunnel, he felt like he'd been walking for ages. Where did this lead, exactly? Where could Lupin be going all the time? It must be something major, if all of them had kept it a secret so long.

Well, he'd soon find out. Things were going beautifully. He couldn't believe his luck when Black had unknowingly fed him the information he needed the month before. He'd been counting the days until the full moon. Tonight, Severus had waited until the Slytherin common room was empty, then used a Disillusionment Charm to camouflage himself while he slipped outside.

Once away from the castle, he had ventured just far enough inside the Forbidden Forest to find a long stick, to be used for probing the knot as Black had instructed. He carried it like a staff, feeling a bit like Gandalf in those Muggle books Lily shared with him before they came here. The Whomping Willow was at the far end of the school grounds, and the staff was a lifesaver, especially as part of the way was uphill. Severus did not play Quidditch; in fact, he spent most of his time poring over books or brewing potions in the dungeons. He was rather unaccustomed to the exercise.

The tree had barely had time to register an intruder before Severus caught the knot with the edge of his staff. He found the hidden entrance at the base of the roots and, tucking the stick under his arm, slid down into the dark passageway. He leaned the tool against the dirt wall; it might be needed to get back out once he emerged with his evidence.

Severus undid the Disillusionment Charm and snapped, _"Lumos!"_ His wand lit up, revealing the tunnel ahead. The boy grinned maniacally before starting down the passageway.

Now, having followed the path for some time, Severus was getting excited. _It can't be much farther now,_ he thought. _Finally, I'll know. The headmaster won't be able to protect Potter this time._ As he walked, he was thinking with glee of watching his enemy get expelled.

The first time he'd seen Potter was on Platform 9¾ that first year, being embraced by his mother. Mrs. Potter was a very attractive woman, dressed to perfection, and she obviously adored her son. The elder Mr. Potter looked more like his boy's kindly old grandfather than his father, and he smiled and tearfully hugged the eleven-year-old while wishing him luck at school. The prat himself was the picture of good health and proper care, with crisp new robes and an expensive satchel and trunk.

Standing next to his sallow, sour-faced mother and grim, disapproving father, all three of the Snapes in their charity shop clothes, Severus's heart had been eaten away by jealousy. His mother loved him after a fashion, but years of budget stretching and beatings from his father had taken most of her spirit. She simply didn't have much love left to share with her son. She'd only given him a perfunctory hug before he stepped on the train.

School was supposed to be a blessed escape. Away from his father's menace and free to study to his heart's content, Severus should have been in his element. But the moment he and Potter had met, there was instant loathing between them. He didn't know who had fired the first shot, so to speak, but the initial dislike had quickly degenerated into a game of one-upmanship, with each boy trying to outdo the other's last hex. Since Potter had three friends behind him and Severus had none, the skinny Slytherin always lost.

Hogwarts, the home he had longed for since he was a child, was no longer safe. And it was James Potter that had made it so. It wasn't enough that he was rich, spoiled, good-looking, and a Quidditch star. It wasn't enough that he went after Severus every chance he got. He was trying to take Lily, too. Severus had often imagined how pleasant school could become if only he could get rid of that prat and his friends. And now it appeared that he might finally have that chance.

The passageway turned to stone steps and began to curve upward. Severus's eyes glittered hungrily. He was so close . . .

* * *

James ran every step of the way across the grounds to the Willow, and he was out of breath when he finally got there. He realised, too late, that without Wormtail, he'd need to find some other way to probe the knot. What had Snape used? James looked around, keeping a safe distance from the waving branches, but saw nothing.

Finally, in desperation, he squinted and pointed his wand at the knot. He shot a Stinging Hex and breathed a sigh of relief when his aim proved true. The Willow stilled, and he rushed for the entrance at the base of the roots. Dropping into a crouch, he slid down into the darkness.

James stood just inside the passageway, fighting to keep his breathing steady. He listened, but no sound issued from the dark before him. "Snape!" he shouted. Nothing. "Bugger. _Lumos!_" he muttered, and the tip of his wand lit up, casting his cloaked shadow on the tunnel walls. The tunnel was empty. Well, there was a tree branch leaning up against the wall just ahead; that must be what Snape had used to get in. James took off the Cloak and carefully folded it up, leaving it at the entrance.

Taking a deep breath, James began running, or at least moving as fast as he could through the uneven, narrow passage. Several times he stumbled on protruding roots, and once he ran hard into the edge of the wall as the tunnel took a sudden sharp turn.

_I never realised how long it takes to get there,_ he thought in frustration. Of course, he was usually accompanied by his friends, which made the time pass quicker. And he _wasn't_ usually rushing in a panic to save his archenemy from danger.

Finally, James felt stone steps under his feet, which meant he was getting close. The passage sloped upward, and the tiring teenager felt a stitch forming in his side as he worked the incline. _Just a little further . . ._

Yes, there up ahead! He could see someone's shadow mounting the stairs ahead of him. "Snape!" he gasped out, still winded.

The skinny boy whirled around, pointing his wand. "Get back, Potter, or I'll hex you into next week," he snarled.

"No, wait! Don't go any further! I — "

"Trying to save your own hide?" Snape's upper lip curled in a sneer. "I've waited a long time for this, Potter. Whatever you and Lupin have been up to, I'm about to find out. I'll see you and your little friends expelled this night."

"Please _listen_ to me!" James cried desperately, grabbing Snape's arm. "Listen, Severus. There's . . ." Snape stopped moving, probably too surprised at hearing James use his first name to fight.

James tried to think. It was possible to still avoid telling Snape about Remus's lycanthropy. He knew what the git would do with the information. _Damn Sirius,_ he thought furiously. _What is the _matter _with him? It's his fault we're into this._

Snape was glaring at him; he had to come up with an excuse, fast. "Something lives in there," he began. "I don't know what it is, but I've heard it shrieking and howling. _Everyone_ has; that's why they call it the Shrieking Shack. If you go in there, it could tear you to pieces."

"You're lying! You and Black both, trying to make me out a coward!" Snape cried furiously. He wrenched his arm out of James's grasp and ran ahead.

"Wait!" James called, taking off after him. It wouldn't be long before the passageway ended, coming out in a wall of the Shack. There was a crate blocking the hole, but if Snape got through there first, it would be too late. He had to catch him! The lanky boy was taller than James, though, and his longer legs were giving him a lead.

Finally, in desperation, James decided to stop him with magic. _"Stupefy!"_ he cried, firing off the spell. He breathed a sigh of relief when Snape stumbled just before the end of the tunnel. He rushed to catch up; he'd drag Snape away by his greasy hair if he had to. He stopped, panting, next to the Stunned boy.

But James got the shock of his life. Snape had knocked the crate aside when he fell. Now he was staring in horror through the opening, where Remus was halfway through his transformation, human moans mixing with animal howls as his flesh gave way to fur and his hands to razor-sharp claws. He turned to the boys, probably having smelt them, and the moon reflected off his eyes, which were no longer human but those of a wild beast.

James felt his heart plummet to his shoes. Snape had seen.

He was too late.

* * *

Sirius, meanwhile, hadn't lingered in the Gryffindor dorm. Not ten seconds after James had left, he'd grabbed his jumper and made to follow him.

"No, stay here," he instructed Peter, who was reluctantly getting off his bed. "James has the Cloak; it'll be hard enough to get out there without getting caught."

Actually, Peter could have gone as Wormtail, but neither boy thought of that just then. Or if Peter _did_ think of it, he kept his mouth shut. He preferred to stay behind. Relieved, he settled back on the bed and picked up his essay.

He wasn't about to clean up the Every Flavour Beans, either.

* * *

Shakily, James shoved the crate back into place. Snape was lying on the ground, his sides heaving. Sighing, he bent down and helped the raven-haired boy to his feet. Considering James had just Stunned him and knocked him down, he was surprised to see that Snape was smiling.

"What are _you_ so happy about?" he asked, his mind whirling. How could he convince the Slytherin not to tell what he'd seen?

"You and your friends were trying to get me killed," Snape said matter-of-factly. "The headmaster will not be pleased." He then turned and headed back down the stone steps, not saying another word. Together, they trekked back through the passageway. James was almost glad for the darkness so he wouldn't have to look at Snape's smirking face. About halfway back to the Willow, though, he bumped into something in the dark, something that wasn't a rock or dirt wall. Something soft.

"Who's there?" he said loudly. _"Lumos!"_ The wand tip lit up to reveal Sirius's panicked face. "Oh, it's you," he said, both relieved and repulsed. James shoved past his friend and continued walking. He heard Sirius falling into step behind him, but his mind was occupied with Snape. He wished more than anything that he knew how to Obliviate the stupid git, but it took incredible skill to modify someone's memory and preserve as much as possible. As much as he loathed Snivelly, he wouldn't want him damaged.

As the boys hiked back to the castle, none of the three said much. Snape was taking long strides ahead of the other two, his head held high. Sirius was biting his lip, sneaking glances at James out of the corner of his eye. James was ignoring both of them; of all unaccountable things, he was _whistling._

"Stop making so much noise; you'll bring Filch on us," pleaded Sirius.

James stopped and gave him a furious glare. "We _have_ to get caught, you stupid prat," he hissed. "Dumbledore's the only one who can make Snape keep his mouth shut."

Sirius hadn't thought of that. He was used to avoiding the teachers, not seeking them out. But he saw James's point; they had to get to Dumbledore before Snape slithered away to the dungeons and started spouting off. James resumed his tune.

Snape was the first to arrive at the door to the castle. Sirius and James heard him yelp as the caretaker, Mr. Filch, reached out of the shadows and grabbed the collar of his robe. They hurried to catch up.

"Caught you again, you slithering serpent," Filch cackled. "I'll see you out for this, mark my words. It's the headmaster's office for you."

"Good!" cried Snape. "Take me to him!"

Filch was so surprised that he let go of the boy's robes. "You'll be singing a different tune if I have anything to say about it," he muttered irritably. Just then, he caught sight of James and Sirius, and his eyes widened. "_You_ two! Well, this is my lucky night!" The man was almost dancing with glee. "Come on, let's go." As the three boys followed him, Filch was now the one whistling.

As they walked through the castle toward Dumbledore's office, Sirius tried to catch his best mate's eye. James was pointedly ignoring him. He tried to get his friend to talk. "Jamie, I didn't —"

"Sod off." James's voice was flinty.

"Please — "

"Just leave me alone. You make me sick," James spat.

Sirius was the one who felt sick at that point. James wasn't even going to listen. His friend's words cut him to the quick. And they weren't out of danger yet; what if Dumbledore couldn't convince Snape to keep what he'd seen a secret? Sirius couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so helpless. Normally, he was relaxed and confident. Perhaps even cocky. He probably wasn't the nicest person to be around most of the time, he thought miserably. But never before had it gotten him and his friends into such a wretched situation.

"Treacle." They had reached the gargoyle guarding the headmaster's office, and Filch spoke the password in a voice vibrating with excitement. The gargoyle moved, and the caretaker shoved all three of them roughly into the stairwell.

"Watch it," Snape snarled, turning on him. Filch only grabbed his ear and dragged him up the stairs, ignoring the boy's loud protests.

"Does he _ever_ stop whinging?" James muttered, falling into step behind them. Sirius followed, dreading the impending interview.

Dumbledore was sitting at his desk when Filch burst through the door, leading Snape. James and Sirius came in next, and Sirius's hand trembled as he closed the door behind him.

"Let _go_ of me, old man!" Snape cried, grabbing Filch's arm and breaking his grip. "I didn't _do_ anything, it was _them!_" He rubbed his ear, which was all red from the caretaker's fingers.

Filch was angry. "I caught these whelps out-of-bounds, Professor," he exclaimed. "And _this_ one gave me cheek," he added, pointing at Snape, who opened his mouth to protest.

"That's a load of — "

"Enough." The headmaster rose slowly from his desk. "Thank you, Mr. Filch," he said to the incensed man. "I'll deal with the boys."

Snape smirked.

Filch looked mutinous, but he left as the headmaster asked, shutting the door behind him with perhaps more force than strictly necessary.

Dumbledore sighed and looked at the three students in front of him. He was amazed it had taken this long for them to have a major confrontation. The headmaster had long been aware of the animosity that existed between all five boys, though he was shrewd enough to know that Peter was just following his friends' leads, and that Remus wasn't actively involved in the frequent spats. He first looked at Severus, who had his arms crossed and a cocky grin on his face. The boy wasn't a favourite of his, it was true. He was always ready to cry that his share was less than others, and the constant . . . well, snivelling, there was no other way to put it . . . got on most faculty members' nerves.

His gaze shifted to James, the most popular boy in school, hailing from an old, wealthy Wizarding family. Despite being Pureblood, the young man was hardly stuck-up or haughty about his standing. In fact, in most respects, he was a very engaging young lad who would make a fine man someday. Still, he did tend to be a bit arrogant and conceited, especially about his looks and his Quidditch skills.

Finally, the old man's eyes fell on Sirius Black. Another Pureblood, Sirius's family didn't have the best reputation. All Slytherins, except for Sirius himself, the Blacks were known for being heavily involved in the Dark Arts. He'd taught the boy's parents, and it always amazed him to see how different their son was from them. Still, like James, Sirius was rather self-centered and cocky. If ever a combination of people spelled disaster, it was these three.

He turned back to Severus, deciding to let him speak first. The boy was obviously agitated. "Why don't you tell me what's been happening here, Mr. Snape?"

This was the moment Severus had been waiting for. "These two," he said dramatically, pointing to James and Sirius, "and their friend Lupin tried to _murder_ me!"

"Now, Mr. Snape," Dumbledore began.

"It's true!" the boy cried, anguished. "Black told me how to get past the Whomping Willow, because he knew Lupin was there, and he's a _werewolf_, professor! He attacked me! I almost died!" Dumbledore was silent. Slowly, realisation dawned on Snape's face. "You _knew?_" he exclaimed in disbelief.

"Indeed, Mr. Snape. Who do you think made the arrangements for Madam Pomfrey to escort Mr. Lupin to the Shack every month?" the headmaster answered patiently.

"How could you let a werewolf come to school here?" Snape yelled.

"There was no reason not to let Mr. Lupin attend Hogwarts as long as certain precautions were taken. Certainly I never thought a student would try to hunt him down," Dumbledore replied in a tired voice. It was rather nettlesome being shouted at, but after all, it was late and Severus had suffered a shock.

"Those two sent me!"

"Oh, for — " James began. It was the first time he'd spoken.

Dumbledore held up a hand to silence him, then gave Severus a piercing look. "And what were your motives for going?"

Snape flushed. "Well, I wanted . . . that is, I suspected . . ." he trailed off.

"Did you perhaps wish to find out something about Mr. Lupin and his friends that could cause trouble for them?" the headmaster asked quietly. Snape didn't answer. Sirius chewed his thumbnail.

"He's been after Lupin since first year," James said in disgust. "He's nothing but a git, harassing us all the — "

"Shut up, Potter!" Snape snarled. "You may be everyone's favourite here, but even you can't get away with attempted murder!"

"That's enough." Dumbledore spoke quietly, but his tone left nothing to argument. He turned to James. "Would you care to explain, Mr. Potter?"

James opened his mouth to speak, but didn't get a chance.

"Wait," Sirius interrupted. "Don't . . . please, sir, let me go first. Snape's right. I told him about the Willow. James had nothing to do with it. He just found out maybe half an hour ago, and Peter and Remus never even knew." He stopped, sweat prickling his forehead and under his arms as the headmaster turned to him.

"You see!" cried Severus, triumphant.

"That will do, Mr. Snape," replied Dumbledore. He rubbed his temples. "If that is true, then you and Mr. Potter are free to go. But, Severus," he said, switching to the boy's given name to catch his full attention, "You are not to tell a soul what transpired tonight. The most you may reveal is that you three boys were caught out-of-bounds. Under no circumstances are you to let it be known that Mr. Lupin is a werewolf. Do you understand me?"

"The students have a right to know," Snape pushed. "He and his friends are dangerous. Look what they had in store for me!"

"Mr. Lupin is innocent in this, Severus," said Dumbledore gravely. "It is not his fault that he is a werewolf, and it seems neither he nor Mr. Potter had any inkling of what Mr. Black had planned for tonight. I must insist that you keep this information to yourself; I'm afraid the consequences for you if you reveal Mr. Lupin's secret would be severe."

"What about _his_ consequences?" Snape cried in fury, pointing an accusing finger at Sirius. His eyes were sparkling with tears. "He almost _killed_ me, Professor! But I'm the one getting threatened!"

"That, young man, is between Mr. Black and myself," Dumbledore said evenly. "You must give me your word, Severus." He stared, unblinking, at the irate teenager.

Snape's eyes were sparkling with rage, but he couldn't very well refuse. "I _promise,_ then," he ground out.

"Thank you, Severus," the headmaster said simply. "Now I will ask you and Mr. Potter to leave us and return to your dormitories."

Snape looked like he was going to have a tantrum; his fists were clenched at his sides, and he was breathing hard. When James nudged him, though, he jumped back in revulsion, and that seemed to wake him up. He stormed for the door and wrenched it open. James followed sedately, catching the door before it hit the wall and pulling it shut behind him. He never once looked at Sirius.

Sirius felt his stomach flip, and his mouth tasted like chalk. It wasn't that he expected to be let off; far from it. But the idea of suddenly being closeted with the headmaster left him feeling too vulnerable all at once. And there would still be his friends to convince afterward. He hoped they'd listen. He had an odd sense of déjà vu as the door closed behind James for the second time that night, leaving Sirius alone and feeling very scared, indeed.


	3. Reckoning

**Chapter Three: Reckoning**

There was a long silence. Sirius tried, but he was too ashamed to meet the headmaster's eye for more than a few seconds. He fidgeted, first scratching the back of his right leg with his left foot, then examining his hands. He even studied the portraits on the wall, each of a former headmaster or headmistress of Hogwarts. He wondered how many there were, but his mind was so distracted that he kept losing count. Finally, Dumbledore spoke.

"I don't need to tell you that I'm terribly disturbed by your behavior, Mr. Black," he began. "I know that you boys have always disliked each other, but there is no excuse for this." Sirius looked up. The man's eyes were devoid of their normal twinkle, but he didn't look angry, as Sirius expected. Only very sad.

He felt cold all over, except for his face, which was burning with shame. He lowered his gaze again and studied a crack in the floor, afraid to look into those piercing eyes anymore. If only he could slip through that crack and vanish.

"I never expected the animosity between you to degenerate into outright viciousness."

Sirius felt sick. "Sir," he began, his voice shaky, "I swear, I didn't mean for Snape to get hurt. I'm not trying to get off, I know I'm in major trouble, but" — he struggled to explain it in a way the headmaster would understand — "I never thought about him actually in danger; all I figured was he'd see the wolf and get scared out of his wits. Just scared, that's all. I didn't realise . . ."

He couldn't tell the headmaster about the Animagus transformations; what good would that do other than to get his best mates in trouble? But that was the only way to really impress on the man that he had no reason to believe Snape wouldn't be safe. Oh, he couldn't stand it; what must Dumbledore think of him?

"It's just 'cause he was always trying to find out where Remus went, said he was going to get him expelled; I just wanted him to get frightened off . . ." Sirius knew he was babbling, not making sense. He wrung his hands. The look in Dumbledore's eyes was tearing him to shreds. "Please, sir," he said desperately, "you have to believe me." He hung his head.

"Mr. Black, I have no doubt that you are telling the truth," — Sirius let his breath out with a _whoosh _— "but your thoughtlessness could have had devastating consequences. Not only would you have been culpable had young Mr. Snape been injured or killed, but Mr. Lupin, one of your _best friends,_ would have been imprisoned for such an attack, though he knew no better. As it stands, Mr. Snape is now aware that he is a werewolf, which, had that information been made public, would force him out of school. Mr. Lupin trusted you to keep his secret, and you broke that trust for a lark."

"I know," Sirius said miserably. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't think that far ahead. James and Remus knew nothing about it. Neither did Peter. The minute I told James what happened, he ran off to warn Snape."

"I believe you, in that you were only playing a prank, Mr. Black," Dumbledore. "But a prank can still have deadly results. I imagine you feel remorse, but you can hardly expect that to be punishment enough for such an infraction."

Sirius shook his head. "No, sir," he whispered.

Dumbledore sighed. "This is hardly a matter to be solved with detentions or House points," he continued. "As much as it saddens me, as it is usually a punishment reserved for the most desperately recalcitrant students, it would appear I have no choice but to use the cane."

Sirius paled. His head suddenly felt light, and there was a wonky buzzing sound in his ears. His bottom tingled in anticipation; although he had never gotten the cane, he had heard the stories about it. And his father's belt didn't exactly tickle. Sirius thought he might just sick up, but he swallowed and nodded; in the back of his mind, he'd expected as much, maybe even welcomed the idea as a way to get rid of some of the guilt he was feeling.

He knew the aged wizard was correct; since he'd become headmaster, the cane had rarely been used, save for the worst offenses, namely those that involved one student violently hurting another, usually involving Dark Magic. Sirius's heart ached at being classified with them. Oddly, what gave him a pang right then was the thought of how disappointed McGonagall would be at one of her Gryffindors being caned. Mostly it was Slughorn's students that felt the stick. It wasn't for the reason the Slytherins gave (that the headmaster disliked their House), but that they were more prone to planning malicious attacks. _Well, my family was all Slytherin,_ he reasoned. _Maybe I'm more like them than I thought._

"Your parents will be ashamed," the portrait of Phineas Nigellus, his great-great-grandfather, suddenly spoke aloud. "Fraternising with half-breeds and Mudbloods. Look what it's gotten you! When I tell your mother of the dishonour you've shown to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black —"

"That will do, Phineas," Dumbledore said evenly. "Mr. Black is being punished, and I would ask you not to attempt to cheer him up." The portrait frame suddenly went blank, divested of its occupant, who had no doubt headed for his other portrait at Grimmauld Place to inform Sirius's parents of their son's latest infraction.

_At least he won't watch me getting it,_ Sirius thought. He felt a stab of envy for Muggle children, who were afforded the luxury of receiving punishments without the cognizant occupants of dozens of portraits staring at them. _What the bloody hell is wrong with me?_ he thought. _Next I'll be asking if I can take it out in the hall so the pictures can't see._

Without further ado, the headmaster walked over to the far corner of his office, where stood a solid oak cabinet. Sirius's heart hammered as the wizard opened the carved door and rummaged around, and his knees started shaking when Dumbledore emerged with a thick rattan cane. Closing the cabinet, he returned to where Sirius waited in tense silence.

"Right, Mr. Black. Take down your trousers and pants and bend across the desk."

Sirius obeyed instantly, though the hands that unfastened his top button were shaking. Lowering the garments to his ankles, he stepped up to the desk and bent over it, laying his torso across the smooth wood. His hands gripped the far edge, and his hips were pressed tightly against that nearest him. _Good thing it isn't James,_ he thought. _He's shorter than I am, and I can barely reach as it is. Oh, for . . ._

In this vulnerable position, with his bare bottom on display, Sirius became acutely aware of the sounds in the room. Fawkes the phoenix was making an odd clucking sound. The magical instruments displayed on tables around the room were popping and whirring. The portraits were whispering amongst each other; this had to be a rare event for them. Sirius found himself wondering inanely what the portraits found to talk about all the time. It must be boring as Professor Binns's class to be a portrait. Still, considering what was about to happen to him, Sirius felt he'd trade with them in a heartbeat. A portrait feels no pain. Or guilt, for that matter. And guilt, at the moment, was tearing him apart.

He'd never seen James look at anyone but Snape and a few other Slytherins with such loathing in his eyes. His best mate either didn't believe that Sirius had only been pranking or didn't care. After all, considering the possible end result for Remus, Sirius's intentions were somewhat beside the point. His heart ached when he thought of losing James's friendship. And how would Remus feel, waking up the next morning to find out that Sirius had caused him to come just this side of killing someone? And ending up in Azkaban for the rest of his life?

The muttering portraits were starting to get on his nerves. He felt like the woman in that Muggle movie _Rosemary's Baby,_ lying half-conscious while everyone watched her get raped. _As long as she ate the mouse, she can't see nor hear. Now sing._ Finally, Sirius heard the headmaster's footsteps as he came up behind him. Another person that he respected who was probably thoroughly disgusted with him. His eyes prickled as he fought to stay calm. "Twelve strokes, Mr. Black. I will ask you to count each one; if you move out of position, that stroke won't count," the man said.

"Yes, sir," Sirius said, but his voice caught. He cleared his throat and repeated himself more clearly. "Yes, sir."

Dumbledore sighed. "I'm gravely disappointed in you, young man. I hope this will teach you to think through every aspect of your actions beforehand." With that, the headmaster stood back and lifted the cane, tapping it against Sirius's backside to get his aim. The boy winced at the light touch; it made everything seem real, all of a sudden. Ever since he'd realised the danger Snape was facing, the whole evening had seemed dreamlike, somehow. Like one of those Picasso paintings where things make sense and don't at the same time. It was probably a form of shock; his mind was cushioning him from the stress of the situation. Feeling the rattan against his skin brought everything sharply into focus. Mia Farrow's voice echoed in his ears: _This is no dream! This is really happening!_

He didn't have long to muse on that point, as the headmaster suddenly raised the cane high and brought it down with a loud **Thwack!** on his quivering bum. For a second, Sirius thought there must have been a mistake; maybe it was just another tap . . . and then.

The pain suddenly came from all directions at once, like opening the door to a soundproofed room and hearing the thundering music rush out in a tidal wave of pounding drums and shrieking strings. The boy had never realised just how much that stick would _hurt._ He had heard Dumbledore's warning not to move, but figured it wasn't going to be a problem, at least not right away. Certainly not on the first stroke. Yet if he hadn't had the edge of the desk in a death grip that made it difficult to loosen his fingers, the surprise and pain may well have made him reach back and rub the burning weal. "One, sir," he said shakily. He tensed up, waiting for the second stroke.

The headmaster only paused a moment after hearing Sirius acknowledge that first before laying down a second stripe directly below it. **Thwack!** The boy's jaw clenched, and he involuntarily pulled at the edge of the furniture he was draped across, but didn't miss a beat. "Two, sir." Dumbledore wasn't caning with full force, but he wasn't letting Sirius off lightly, either. **Thwack!** So far, the strokes hadn't crossed each other; there were now three red weals forming on the boy's backside. "Three, sir," he said through gritted teeth.

Dumbledore let him squirm for a moment before taking careful aim for the fourth stroke. **Thwack!** That one hit Sirius right in the fleshy portion of his bottom, where his weight would rest while sitting down. "Four, sir." **Thwack!** The fifth landed right below the last, almost overlapping, making the whole "sit spot" hum with pain. "Five, sir," he managed, although his voice was choked.

**Thwack!** The sixth found that thin, sensitive spot between buttocks and thigh, and finally Sirius's composure cracked. He yelped in pain, writhing a bit on the desk, though essentially keeping his position. "Six, sir!" he gasped out, then took a shuddering breath.

"Keep still." To Sirius, the headmaster's voice sounded frosty, although in his current state, he couldn't trust his hearing; he could feel the blood pounding in his ears as the pain in his bottom built with each stroke. He couldn't fathom that the punishment was only half over; he wasn't going to be able to sit down again for days as it was.

The next stroke was delivered with no less force, despite the fact that it was now on the tender skin of his thighs. **Thwack!** "Seven, sir," Sirius moaned, and he felt tears running out of the corners of his eyes, splashing down on the desk. The tears were a surprise, as he hadn't even realised he was crying. The scared boy turned his head, resting his hot cheek on a cool new spot, focusing his gaze on a quill left out next to him. He momentarily lost himself in counting the wispy barbs, until . . .

The eighth fell with a resounding **Thwack!** a bit lower than the last. Sirius let out a muffled sob, and he needed a moment before he could choke out "Eight, sir!"

While Sirius was able to stay in position after a fashion, that wasn't to say he was keeping perfectly still. His legs were quivering, and he kept shifting his weight from foot to foot. This did absolutely nothing to reduce the stinging pain in his wealed bottom, but mentally it gave him some relief. How he was going to hang on for another four strokes was beyond his ability to predict.

Again the biting stick caught his thighs with a **Thwack!** Sirius's breath hitched as he tried unsuccessfully to speak. After sniffling to clear his throat of tears, he croaked, "Nine, sir." _Oh, Merlin, that hurt . . . Remus, please, don't hate me . . . James . . ._

**Thwack! **Another weal, this time overlapping the last two strokes. At that, he could not restrain a rather high-pitched note of pain, but still managed, with a little more force than necessary, to count "Ten, sir!"

"Two more, Mr. Black. Stay in position." Dumbledore only meant this as a reminder, and even encouragement (as in _only_ two more), but Sirius felt his stomach turn at what he perceived to be criticism for his disappearing stoicism. He respected the old man so much that he didn't wish to appear cowardly, especially as the headmaster was already so disappointed in him.

Perhaps that was what made Sirius break down at the eleventh stroke. Finally letting go after resisting too hard often follows the domino effect; let one cry escape involuntarily, and the dam will break soon after. Whatever the reason, when the cane fell with another **Thwack**, this time crossing the weals on the fleshy sit spot, the punished boy could no longer remain stoic. He cried out loud, then bit down on his hand as his mouth started to run away with him, letting loose a pitiful wail of pain and misery. All thoughts of counting the strokes had fled, and Dumbledore saw nothing to be gained by pressing the issue.

"One more," the man said, and without letting it drag out, he brought the cane down one final time in the same place. Sirius threw his head back and gave a yelp of pain, then let his weight fall back on the desk, where he lay racking with soft sobs.

Dumbledore let him be for a moment while he walked over to the cabinet and replaced the cane. The tired old man sighed; every time he put the implement away, he hoped it would be for the last time. It never was. Closing the door, he turned back to face the room. "Stand up, Mr. Black," he instructed in a neutral voice.

Sirius obeyed slowly, fighting hard against the impulse to rub his screaming backside. He whimpered as he bent down to pull up his trousers; the skin of his bottom stretched painfully, and it was no comfort to have his pants back up. The cloth rubbed cruelly against the swollen, bruised flesh. He wiped his eyes surreptitiously before turning to face the headmaster.

"I trust that you realise just how" — Dumbledore sighed again; this was really getting old. Did the Blacks name their son with the intention of annoying people? — "_seriously_ your poor thinking could have hurt everyone involved."

"Yes, sir," Sirius said softly, shifting as a fresh stab of pain went through him. The weals where the cane had marked him were throbbing in concert with his head, which felt as if it'd been hooked up to an air pump.

"Then you may return to Gryffindor Tower. We will consider the matter settled."

Sirius nodded and turned to leave, but paused with the edge of the door in his hand and turned back. He had to ask. "Sir?"

"What is it?"

Sirius bit his lip. "He won't tell, will he? About Remus?" he asked, a note of pleading in his voice. He desperately wanted to be reassured on this point. He wouldn't put it past Snape to go blabbing, now or at some future date when the fancy struck him, but Sirius was ready to grasp at straws. If Dumbledore said no, he was willing to concur.

"Mr. Snape has given his word. I have no doubt he will keep it," the old man answered.

Sirius nodded, relieved. "Thank you, sir." He softly closed the door behind him.

Once out in the corridor, he found out just how much more it hurt to walk normally, as opposed to his limited movement in the confines of the headmaster's office, with a recently caned bottom. Sirius had to take very small steps and stop to rest often. He grumbled at the sheer size of the castle. _Whoever designs boarding schools should get caned first,_ he thought angrily as he wended his way through the mazy halls._ Then let's see how far they put the Head's office from the dorms . . ._

The Fat Lady was miffed. "One of these days I'm just going to pretend to be asleep," she complained. "You and that Potter are supposed to be the smartest students here, but you don't even know the definition of 'curfew.'"Sirius was too tired to retort, so he just mumbled the password and watched as the entrance to Gryffindor Tower opened up. Stepping through the portrait hole wasn't the most thrilling experience, but he finally just gritted his teeth and jumped as quickly as possible, like ripping a plaster off rather than peeling it slowly. Luckily, reaching the dorm where James and Peter undoubtedly were wouldn't require climbing too many more stairs.

As he made his way to the dormitory, Sirius's heart started to pound. James had been so furious. The boy was rather hot-headed, and nothing mattered more to him than friendship. The fact that Sirius had nearly dragged Remus into a life-threatening situation was not exactly going to cement their relationship.

Taking a deep breath, Sirius opened the door to the dorm and slowly walked in.


	4. Redemption

**Chapter Four: Redemption**

Sirius was always slow at waking up in the morning. He preferred to slough off the sleep leisurely and gradually, thus he would often initially set the alarm clock for an hour or so ahead of actual rising time. For that sixty minutes that belonged only to him, he would drift in and out of slumber, allowing the scattered pieces of his awareness to aggregate one by one until it was time to get up for class.

On Saturdays, of course, this indolence was a given, and the only alarm clock necessary was his stomach. The morning after the full moon, it was past ten o' clock when he awoke for the first time, and Sirius probably would have gone back to sleep had he not tried to turn over in bed. The jolt of pain that shot through his posterior woke him faster than any alarm clock ever manufactured. Had virtual reality technology been developed at that time, the shaken boy might have compared the feeling to that experienced when the VR headset is suddenly ripped off in the middle of a full-blown interactive fantasy adventure.

Confused and disoriented, Sirius was several moments figuring out why this day was different. Piece by piece, the events of the night before clicked together. He squirmed into a better position, then rested his head back on the pillow. His chest burned with hurt and humiliation as he remembered entering the dorm last night.

* * *

James and Peter were talking; he could hear the hum of their voices even through the closed dorm door. The noise abruptly ceased as Sirius pushed open the door and shuffled inside.

The room wasn't lit, but the fireplace gave off a soft, flickering orange glow, and the moonlight was streaming in the window. In the dim, James was only an elongated bump on his bed, and Peter's bed faced Sirius, so that only the curtains could be seen.

Sirius slowly got ready for bed, fighting the urge to whimper as his weals throbbed with each movement. The prospect of walking to the bathroom to wash up was laughable; he'd take cavities over _that_, thank you very much. All the while, not a peep could be heard from James or Peter, though Sirius could tell by their breathing that neither boy was asleep.

Many possibilities of opening lines occurred to him, but none appealed. Finally, when he was in the worn cotton shirt and shorts that comprised his nightly attire, he tried to make overtures.

"Jamie," he said, "Peter, I'm sorry I dragged us all into trouble."

Silence. There was a rustling from Peter's bed, but only momentarily. Sirius thought angrily that Peter ought to speak even if James didn't. But as if James were the metronome that set the tune, Peter seemed incapable of taking initiative.

Sirius eased himself into bed, sucking in his breath at the inevitable contact with the mattress that usually didn't seem so hard, and he was a long time in finding the least painful position to lay in. "I didn't tell him about . . . about us, that we're Animagi," he said to the dead air. Sirius was incensed at the hot tears on his cheeks. _Boys don't cry!_ he thought furiously. _I hardly cried being caned, for Merlin's sake!_

He fell silent and listened to the crackling flames, the only sound in the room. Sirius had always liked to fall asleep to the flickering patterns on the ceiling, but tonight he could barely see them through blurred eyes. The tears had overflowed and were trickling down either side of his face onto the pillow, and the damp began to feel cold and clammy against his head. His nose was running, but he refused to give James the satisfaction of hearing him sniff. He didn't fall asleep for a very long time.

* * *

Now, rolling over so that he could prop himself up on one elbow, Sirius surveyed the room. The sun was so bright, gleaming on polished mahogany, crimson velvet, and the brass fittings of the boys' trunks. But he was alone; Peter's and James's beds were made, the pillows and spreads smooth. Remus's bed was still empty; he'd be in the infirmary under Madam Pomfrey's care.

Sirius suddenly felt a twinge of panic. What if James and Peter had already been to see Remus? They'd undoubtedly paint an unflattering portrait of Sirius, playing down the misunderstanding nature of his actions the night before and making it sound as if he'd plotted a vicious attack without a care for his mate's welfare. He'd better hurry if he wanted to tell his side of the story.

Sirius leapt out of bed, gritting his teeth as the pain in his backside flared. He dressed quickly and used his wand to make his bed. Why he felt the need to perform this usually neglected duty this morning was a mystery, except that even such a small gesture seemed a point in his favor. Wherever the great celestial tally of good and bad deeds was recorded, Sirius felt his ledger was dreadfully unbalanced. Making his bed was, just now, the only way he could consciously begin to balance the scale again. As fast as he could hobble, he hurried out of the dorm and headed for the infirmary.

In a sense, Sirius _was_ too late. James and Peter had already been to visit Remus about an hour prior to Sirius's waking, popping in on their way to breakfast. Provided the recovering lycanthrope was awake, they always tried to see him the morning after the full moon, although this time they were both dreading the inevitable confrontation.

* * *

"Hey, Moony, you're awake!" James said as he and Peter entered the hospital wing. Their friend was wrapped like a mummy in that thin type of blanket found in sick bay, the kind with the waffle weave pattern that's supposed to feel homey but doesn't. James felt another surge of anger for Sirius — that feeling was becoming all too frequent when he thought of his best mate's betrayal. Remus looked so much worse than usual. His face was as white as the sheets, and there were three distinct claw marks on his sunken cheek.

The sick boy smiled painfully. "Prongs, Wormy," he croaked. "Where's Padfoot?"

"Sleeping. It's Saturday," James replied smoothly.

Remus nodded, understanding. His forehead creased suddenly with confusion. "It's funny, but . . . I can usually remember at least pieces of our . . . outings. I can't this time. I've been trying, but . . . I can hardly remember anything. What did we do last night?"

"Well . . . we didn't, actually," James admitted, a sliver of apology evident in his voice.

Remus looked hurt, but he kept his tone light. "What happened? Did Filch catch you?"

James investigated the cheap rolled edge of the aluminum bedside table, his face stony. When his finger began tracing patterns in the condensation on the water glass, Remus turned to Peter. "What's his problem?"

Peter looked nervously at James, whose expression didn't change. "See," Peter began, wetting his lips, "Sirius thought it would be . . . Snape was prattling on, you know how he does, said he'd find out where you were going and all. So Sirius told him about the Willow, and Snape was going to come find you. James had to run down and get him out of the passage."

Remus's eyes flickered from one boy's face to the other. "Well, that's . . . so you got to him in time, then," he addressed James.

"Mm-hmm," James said in a detached voice.

"So what happened then?" Remus pressed.

"Filch caught us coming back in, so we ended up in Dumbledore's office," James volunteered reluctantly. It was on him to tell the story, then. After all, Peter had been in his dorm the whole time. "He made Snape promise not to tell about you."

"He _knows?!_" Remus yelped, sitting straight up. "You said you caught him in time!" His eyes were wide and panicked.

"In time not to get _hurt,_" James rejoined quietly, pushing on Remus's chest to get him to lie down again. His blood began to boil when he saw how the frail boy trembled. _Does Sirius ever _think? _He's got to be the dumbest smart kid I ever met._

Sirius wasn't to know that James was very relieved not to see his best mate expelled. Still, he was furious at the near miss Sirius had arranged for them. The monthly rambles were one thing; everyone was agreed on those, and they took few chances of getting caught. But Sirius had taken this upon himself without a thought for anyone else. Had James gotten to Snape thirty seconds later . . .

"Why did Sirius tell Snape? Didn't he know I couldn't have helped attacking him?" Remus's voice sounded too young for his fifteen years.

Peter looked to James, but this time he wasn't getting any help from that department. "I don't think he realised how it would end," he said hesitantly. "It seemed like he just wanted Snape to get a scare."

Remus looked back and forth between two of his best friends. James didn't volunteer any information, but he didn't argue with Peter, either. Remus sighed and sank back against the pillows. "He'll tell," he whispered, tears trickling down his sunken cheeks. "Snape'll tell, and I'll have to leave school. I don't want to leave." The last word trailed off into a sob of misery.

James didn't think he could take much more of his friend's obvious agony of mind. "Dumbledore made him promise never to say anything," he said in a soothing voice to the agitated werewolf, reaching out to tousle his hair. "It'll be okay, Remus." _But will it?_ he thought.

* * *

James and Peter had long since vacated Remus's bedside when Sirius stepped cautiously inside the infirmary. He saw his mate lying in the furthest bed with his eyes closed, apparently asleep. To make sure, Sirius quietly walked up to the bed and touched Remus' shoulder. "Moony, you awake?" he asked gently.

Remus stirred and opened his eyes. Sirius gave a small, hopeful smile, but when Remus saw who his visitor was, he looked away. Sirius's face fell.

"So I guess James and Peter told you what happened," he began, wringing his hands nervously like he had in Dumbledore's office. "I, erm, I don't suppose it's enough to say that I'm sorry, is it?" he asked.

"Is it true, then?" Remus said in a hoarse voice. "You told Snape where he could find me?"

"Well, I told him about the Willow, yes," Sirius began, hoping he'd get a chance to tell his side. "I figured Snape'd scamper through there and see you as a wolf at the end, then he'd be too scared to wonder anymore. I just wanted him to leave us alone," Sirius pleaded; Remus's face was still hard. "I thought I could get him to bugger off once and for all. I swear, I just thought it would scare him, Moony. You know he's been after us ever since first year —"

"You've been after _him_ since first year, too. You _and_ James," Remus accused, turning his smouldering gaze on his anguished friend. As much as he wanted to look away, Sirius forced himself to meet Remus's eyes. "Always trying to humiliate him, just the way people would humiliate me if . . . if they knew."

Sirius was horrified. "You're different," he said emphatically. "You're kind, and smart, and funny, and he's nothing but a worthless, greasy —"

Remus's eyes closed. "Just go away," he whispered. "Please."

If Sirius had felt ashamed in Dumbledore's office, it was nothing to what he was feeling now. His chest was freezing cold, as if a block of ice had somehow formed in there. He felt a wave of nausea, and probably came as close to fainting as he ever would. Sirius slowly turned around and walked away from his erstwhile friend, his posture slumped and defeated. He swiped angrily at hot, salty tears . . . the only warmth he had just then.

* * *

Outside, the sun was shining so beautifully that it seemed to be mocking him. Remus would never forgive him now. Without his friends, what did he have? Nothing. Sirius found a secluded bench and stared dubiously at it. Could he sit? The worst of the stinging, burning pain had faded into a throbbing soreness that hurt when he moved, but he hadn't tried to sit down yet. Gingerly, Sirius lowered himself onto the bench, hissing as his bottom came into contact with the unyielding wood. He squirmed uncomfortably until he found the least painful position, then rested his elbows on his knees to think.

Sirius was not given to self-analysis. Schoolwork came too easily; he rarely studied, but vied with James and Lily Evans for the top grades. He knew he was good-looking; the gaggles of giggling girls got on his nerves at times, but he was happy enough to dangle the ones that appealed to him, then drop them like hot stones at the first sign that the relationship might evolve into something more. If Sirius and James pooled their detentions and served them in one block of time, it would probably last six months. He didn't quite take away the lesson they were designed to impart; a few detentions were just the price paid for some pretty amusing pranks, handed out by faculty members with too much free time and a poorly-developed sense of humour.

_Dumbledore was fair. You should have been expelled._

At no point did Sirius dispute that this punishment had been condign. In a very bizarre twist, in fact, the physical pain he was feeling was a blessing; it helped him focus the other pain, the kind that no magic could heal. Still, Snape was as much to blame; he'd wanted Remus, who'd never given him much trouble, expelled. All four of them, actually.

_But does he deserve to die?_

Well, no. I didn't mean for that to happen, ever.

_Would you feel bad if he died?_

Not especially.

_Would you feel bad if Remus had been arrested?_

Well, of course! He's my friend! I couldn't live with myself if . . .

_It's all about you, isn't it?_

That's . . . Sirius stopped.

_I, I, I, me, me me. __**I**__ want Snape to leave __**me**__ alone. __**I**__ want James to forgive __**me**__. __**I**__ want Remus around because he's __**my**__ friend, but __**I**__ don't like Snape, so he's expendable._

Sirius felt a lump in his throat as he realised the truth behind the accusation. He really was rather self-absorbed.

Growing up in the Black household was a mixed blessing as far as self-image. It had been hammered into his head time and again that as a Pureblood, and a member of one of the most prominent Wizarding families, he was a cut above most of his peers. Sirius had always been a bit of an outsider in his family, since he didn't share their views on the sanctity of blood or their fascination with the Dark Arts. Still, some of the feelings of superiority inherent in such an upbringing had unwittingly taken root. Coming to Hogwarts and finding himself one of the most popular boys in school, not to mention the healthy competition with James for best marks . . . well, up until now, he had been too prone to contemn his classmates, feeling he was better than all of them.

Maybe he _could_ work on being . . . kinder.

"Still sitting, I see, Mr. Black."

Sirius jumped at the sudden vocalisation; he hadn't heard anyone approaching. He sat up straight, wincing as his bum renewed its earlier whinging, and looked around to find Dumbledore approaching his bench. He was apprehensive at first, but the headmaster looked at him kindly enough. Sirius managed a small smile. "Barely," he said in a mock-hurt voice, moving over on the bench to make room.

"Do you feel you were punished too harshly, then?" Dumbledore asked as he took advantage of the space Sirius had made for him.

Sirius shook his head. "No, sir." He ducked his head, embarrassed. "It was perfectly fair."

"I'm glad to hear that you agree. Your friends aren't too sympathetic, I take it?" the old man inquired.

Sirius coloured. "I'm sort of getting the third degree," he admitted.

"Well, that's not surprising, on the whole." The headmaster settled comfortably back against the bench. Sirius busied himself twisting a lock of hair. "Something ails you?"

Sirius wondered why Dumbledore was being so persistent. But the aged wizard had an uncanny knack for divining the thoughts of the students under his tutelage. "I guess . . ." he shifted uncomfortably. "I've been thinking about . . . things, my family and all that, you know. If I'd been expelled, they'd have been furious, of course, probably disowned me. But if Snape had been killed and Remus . . ." He swallowed hard. "If Remus were expelled or executed, they'd have been happy. And now, I wonder if, well, ifmaybeI'mnotanybetter," he finished in a rush, turning his face away in shame as he waited on Dumbledore's response.

The headmaster was several moments in his rejoinder, but his voice, when it came, was warm. "You and your friends certainly have a talent for mischief, I'll allow, especially you and James," he began, "and once or twice I've wondered if it didn't go a little beyond innocent adolescent pranking. But on the whole, Sirius, I think that you have a great deal of kindness and loyalty and, of course, bravery, as befits a Gryffindor. Once you've graduated and . . . left your current home, I imagine you'll calm down a bit and start showing your better side more often."

The old man smiled encouragingly at Sirius, whose heart warmed to hear those words. "One day, you'll be a credit to your House," he finished, and Sirius smiled as he remembered that Dumbledore had been a Gryffindor, also. Seeing that Dumbledore rose up to leave, Sirius got to his feet painfully and shook the wrinkled hand that was offered to him. "Don't despair; your friends will come around, after they've let you hang long enough," the headmaster assured him with a rather mischievous glint in his eye. "You can't be let off the hook too easily."

"No, sir," Sirius agreed, watching him leave. He suddenly felt as if a weight had been lifted off his chest, and the sunshine was no longer a mockery.

* * *

The next morning, Sunday, Sirius caught James staring at his mangled backside in the shower. He flushed with shame, but James didn't look smug or satisfied or anything. There was even some sympathy in his eyes. His best mate hadn't realized just how . . . serious . . . a punishment caning really was. Sirius hurried to dress, though, and dawdled on his way down to breakfast.

In the Great Hall, his friends still took no notice of him. Sirius felt hot all over at his pushiness, but he sat down with them anyway. There wasn't any alternative. Peter gave him an apologetic glance, but Remus and James acted as if his chair was vacant. He could have been wearing James's Invisibility Cloak for all they acknowledged his presence. He focused on keeping his breathing even as he loaded up his plate with toast, eggs, fruit, and bacon. After skipping all three meals the day before, he was absolutely ravenous.

James was observing Remus as he filled his teacup with about half a bowl of sugar. Something about transforming every month made Remus act like a diabetic on a free-for-all for about three days after the full moon. "You need all that sugar like a werewolf needs a silver bullet," James said, shaking his head. Remus sniggered, which made all three of his friends smile back; usually, he was too sick to find anything funny right after his time of the month.

"Still here, Black?"

Sirius rolled his eyes, not turning. Only one person spoke with that irritating purr.

Snape sauntered up to the Gryffindor table, invoking a few curious stares and more than a few disgusted ones. He leaned up against the bench next to Sirius, who edged away from him as if he were afraid of catching something. "Dumbledore's favourites always manage to talk their way out of trouble, don't they?" he asked angrily. "I wonder, just what _will_ you do out in the real world when you don't have the Hogwarts headmaster to protect you?"

"Why don't you get stuffed?" Sirius mumbled, pushing his food around his plate, no longer hungry.

"Tell me this, did you even get lines for almost getting me killed?" Snape hissed, grabbing Sirius's wrist so he couldn't distract himself that way anymore. Sirius's head flew up, and his eyes met that furious dark gaze as he struggled to pull away. "Or did the old man give you a Special Award for Services to the School?"

"He got the cane," James spoke up, and Snape turned toward him, surprise etched on his face. His hand loosened enough that Sirius was able to extract his wrist from the Slytherin's vice-like grip. Sirius glared at James, furious that his friend would humiliate him this way. But James wasn't finished.

"And if you ask me," he continued, half standing up in his seat so as to lean closer, "you're hardly worth it. All you've wanted since our first year was to get us all expelled. You think you know better than Dumbledore how to run this school. It's only because he's so forgiving that you're even still here, you and your Dark Arts. If you're not his 'favourite,' you have no one to blame but your whinging, nagging, prejudiced self. So just bugger off." James sat down and pointedly ignored Snape from that point forward.

Snape looked rather taken aback, but not for long; he soon recovered his ire and glared at his archenemy. When James refused to engage any further, however, he turned to Remus. "Just remember that I know what you are . . ." He leaned in closer and spoke in an exaggerated stage whisper. "_Moony._ You and your _friends_ had better just watch your step, because if you think there's never been a time when I'd have taken expulsion over watching you torture me and get away with it, you've got another think coming." With that, he turned and stalked out of the Great Hall.

Remus was staring down at his plate, his cheeks flushed. James glared after Snape as he billowed away — even in those days, he billowed — then slowly turned back to his food, stabbing angrily at a sausage. Finally, he looked up and spoke to Remus.

"Next time, just bite him."

**The End**


End file.
